Team Jethro
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Leroy Jethro Gibbs has been kidnapped by a nefarious redhead at the eleventh hour--and it doesn't bode well. Where is she taking him? And are those the hysterical screams of teenage girls? A bit of nonseniscal fluff to combat nauseating New Moon Mania.


_A/N: Is this a crack!fic? You be the judge. Regardless, it was oodles of fun to write--though I have clearly lost my mind. It's mocking, it's fluffy--and I certainly hope enjoyable. Edward Cullen; Jacob Black: Eat your damn hearts out. We're TEAM JETHRO._

* * *

Jennifer Shepard smirked as the trapped man next to her yawned noisily in the front seat of her car, silently laughing at his struggle to keep his stony glare in place.

She kept her eyes on the dimly lit road before her, her lips sealed tightly, refusing to enlighten him as to where she was taking him. She stoically ignored the persistent, piercing glare he was sending her way, amused that he could glower so long without blinking.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs, for one, did not give up on his glaring. He was unaccustomed to Jenny barging into his house circa midnight and beating him with a pillow to wake him up, simply in order to drag him out into the night with her and refuse to inform him of their destination. On the one night he'd actually decided to _sleep_…

He narrowed his eyes pointedly.

Jenny pushed the car a few miles faster, evidently in the mood for speed.

"Where are we going?" he asked loudly, for the fourth time.

"You have exceptional investigative prowess, Jethro. Surely you've figured out by now that I am not going to answer that question," she answered primly, not even looking at him.

He scowled at her.

"You interrupted my sleep."

"You hate sleep, Jethro."

"That's not the point!"

"Then what, may I ask, is?" she queried innocently.

"You kidnapped me," he growled.

Jenny laughed, one eyebrow arching attractively. She kept a steady hand on the wheel.

"Don't be so dramatic," she suggested breezily.

His icy blue eyes narrowed. Jenny's lips curled at the corners, reminding him of a pussycat who'd just killed the canary. He did not like this. He did not like this at all.

"You need better damn security," Jethro mumbled grumpily.

"What was that?" Jenny asked loudly, raising both eyebrows.

"Clearly, they're incompetent," Jethro snapped, glaring at her, "You've escaped again."

"That I have," she marveled, sounding amused, "I've broken loose of my captors to terrorize the city."

"This is not funny, Jen."

"You don't think so?" she asked mildly.

She laughed.

Jethro reached over and pinched her arm. Fluidly, she smacked him hard in the shoulder and resumed driving with both hands, pushing up the speedometer again.

"Ninety miles per hour is forty over the limit," he pointed out patronizingly.

"We're going to be late," Jenny murmured.

His ears perked up and he looked suspiciously at the clock, curious as to what they could possibly _be_ _late_ for at half past twenty-three hundred.

"Late for _what_?" he voiced his thoughts.

The ghost of a maniacal smile passed Jenny's lips, and her eyes danced with a mischievous sparkle.

Jethro tilted his head back against the head rest of Jenny's car and groaned, dreading what was coming. He had no earthly idea what was going on. He couldn't begin to guess. It was a typical boring Thursday night.

At least, it had been when he fell asleep under the boat.

The definition of boring was being stretched at the moment.

He bolted upright in the seat when they entered a congested area and Jenny pulled off a dangerous move to snag a parking space. Lights flooded the car, and Jethro narrowed his eyes out the window of the car, turning to her slowly with gritted teeth.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked.

Jenny killed the engine calmly and took her key from the ignition, looking out the window and then back at him slowly.

"We are at a movie theatre, Jethro," she replied.

"I got that," he ground out.

"Then why did you ask?" Jenny inquired simply, shrugging in an irritatingly innocent way and opening her car door.

She flashed a sparkling smile at him and got out of the car. He followed quickly, slamming his door violently before she had time to gently shut hers, and rested his arms on top of the car, meeting her emerald gaze over the top.

Inane noise filled his ears and he winced. If he wasn't mistaken, the air was filled with hundreds—possibly thousands—of shrill, excited teenage voices. The parking lot was full of the owners of the voices.

"What the _hell_ are we doing here, Jenny?" he demanded sternly.

"Seeing a movie," she answered sweetly, tilting her head at him.

He glared, losing his patience with her coy, sugary act.

"_Why_?"

Jenny smiled crookedly and pushed off her car, beckoning with one little finger. She came around it and indicated towards the theatre with her head. It was then that he noticed the front of the theatre was swarmed with teenagers, most of them squealing.

He stood rooted to the spot.

"Jethro," she coaxed.

"Take me home," he growled.

"Oh, Jethro seriously—"

"Take me home _now_, Jen!" he demanded viciously, starting to feel panic.

He would never piss of the FBI again. He'd never call her Madame or look at her funny or stare at her ass again if she just took him home. What in God's name had he done to deserve subjection to what looked like every single one of Washington's D.C.s females between the ages of ten and twenty-one?

"Jethro. You are being ridiculous. We do not even have to wait in line; I already have tickets. Come. On." She demanded, narrowing her eyes.

He instigated a glaring match with her, which he realized he was going to lose halfway through. After a good long minute, he scuffed his foot violently on the concrete and trudged forward, tempted to start kicking her if she tried to make him go in there.

"Help," he moaned, to no one in particular.

"Are you whining?" Jenny asked mildly.

He growled at her and clamped his mouth shut.

There were virtually no adults anywhere. He didn't know what the hell was going on. Frankly, he was scared.

"Do you want snacks?" Jenny asked curiously, wrapping her hand around his wrist as if she sensed he was contemplating ways to escape.

She held him vice-like and pulled him through the throng of chattering, screaming, giggling girls.

"I want my boat!" he growled in her ear.

"You can have popcorn or nachos," she said, ignoring him, "But you have to share."

"JENNY!" he practically shrieked, as she looked up at the menu choices and he moved closer to her to avoid being run over by three tween girls who darted past him and ran squealing to another like them, jumping excitedly.

He stared at their shirts as Jenny murmured next to him, placing an order. He looked around, noticing a lot of the shirts were the same. Some of them had slogans. He furrowed his brow and moved closer to Jenny. This was terrifying.

They seemed to be…_united_. All of them. In a way.

"Jenny," he hissed, poking her. "Jenny!" he hissed again.

"Yes?" she drawled, turning and handing him nachos. He took it, still staring at a teenage girls shirt. She had a bag and a hat that matched.

"_What_ is a _Team_ _Jacob_?" he asked in the same wary whisper.

Jenny followed his line of sight and glared.

"It's a feeble joke," she said darkly.

Jethro parted his lips suspiciously. He focused on Jenny and gave her buttoned leather coat a suspicious look. He would run away if she took it off to reveal a similar shirt.

"Is it different from a _Team Edward_?" he asked.

Jenny nodded purposefully.

"_Very_," she said seriously.

She pulled him out of the way and towards the harassed looking man taking tickets. There was a flood of teenage madness at the gate waiting to get in. He peeked warily down the east and west halls of the movie theatre, his eyes narrowing when he read the same movie title on every single board.

Two girls were let through the gate and one immediately dashed down the hall, yelling. The other then followed her, looking as if she were about to burst with joy.

Jethro turned to Jenny.

"I'm scared," he said seriously, deadpan.

"They're just teenagers," Jenny rolled her eyes.

He glared at her as if she were crazy.

"They squeal and giggle and hug! And they're apparently a part of a psychotic cult! I don't trust them."

"Relax!"

"Their shirts have a boy's face on them!" Jethro protested.

Jenny pulled two tickets out of her back pocket and rolled her eyes, presenting them to the ticket taker.

The look the man gave them was priceless. He looked all at once concerned, suspicious, mocking, harassed, and highly amused. Jethro awarded him with the most frightening glare he'd ever given.

"Enjoy the show," the man said seriously.

"Dammit, Jenny, will you tell me what the hell you're playing at?" Jethro growled menacingly, planting his feet and refusing to budge once they'd gotten relatively out of the way. Jenny pushed against his chest insistently.

"You're taking me to a movie because I never get out anymore," she allowed.

"We're not at a movie theatre, Jen! WE'RE IN HELL!" he shouted.

A few younger teenagers looked at him in veritable outrage.

"Jethro, Hell is much hotter than this. Take my word for it. It's somewhere between Libya and the Gaza Strip."

"Cute," he growled, slightly amused that she was still attempting to forcibly move him. "What movie is this? Why are there so many little girls? Jen!" he demanded.

She sighed and stopped pushing. She glared at him.

"It is called _New Moon_. It is a chick-flick, therefore there are _chicks_, and we are going to miss the beginning. NOW MOVE."

Before he could protest, she pushed him with all her strength and he stumbled, grumbling loudly as he stomped towards their theatre with her. It didn't occur to him that he looked absolutely ridiculous behaving like DiNozzo when his paper airplanes were taken away.

"Back," Jenny said, pointing to two free seats in the back.

Jethro looked reluctant. There were teenage girls surrounding those seats. He started to object when he realized…teenage girls occupied every other seat in the theatre. This was getting more and more terrifying by the minute.

"Jethro," Jenny prompted, poking his back.

"Am I going to get any action during this movie?" he asked in a sarcastic grumble.

A teenager on an end seat gasped and giggled loudly. Apparently she heard him.

Jenny snorted loudly.

"Yeah. _Right_."

Jethro stopped at the end of the row of seats Jenny wanted. Two girls at the end had their feet propped up on seats in front of them cell phones in front of their noses. Jethro glared at them until one nudged the other and they both jumped up, rolling their eyes.

He felt Jenny lay a hand on his arm to restrain him.

The previews were ending as they sat down.

"What is this movie about?" he asked petulantly.

"Vampires and werewolves fighting for the eternal affections of an awkward and clumsy yet inexplicably desirable girl."

"Jesus _Christ_," cursed Jethro, earning a smack from his redhead.

Jenny leaned over and lowered her voice as the credits started. A giant moon appeared on the screen.

"Team Jacob is in support of the werewolf," she informed him, "Team Edward, the vampire."

"You buy into this crap, Jenny?" he hissed.

She pulled back and glared.

"I guarantee you'll be amused by this, Jethro," she said coldly.

He snorted derisively.

After a silently moment, he sighed loudly.

"Which one do you support?" he asked moodily.

He all but heard Jenny smirk.

"The vampire of course," she answered, taking a nacho and biting into it crisply. "You know how I like my neck bitten."

"You're the _devil_," Jethro hissed viciously.

"Guilty," she hissed back, leaning back into her chair and crossing her legs.

Jethro sank down dejectedly in his as the movie began. This was torture. He was in public at midnight. Surrounded by madness in the form of shrieking, hysterical, obsessive teenage females and one attractive, crimson-haired tease. He was sitting in a movie about lovesick vampires and werewolves. In two seconds, he discovered that Siva could play the part of the lead female while speaking Hebrew with a head cold.

For once in his life, Leroy Jethro Gibbs considered throwing a temper tantrum.

In a last ditch attempt at keeping his sanity, he reached over during a quiet moment in the movie and touched Jenny's knee, apprehensively watching her face. She didn't react, enraptured in the movie. Smirking, he trailed his hand further up her leg and inside her thigh—

"Agent Gibbs, you are five seconds from grave injury resulting in possible death. Remove your hand."

He yanked his hand back as if burned. And huffed. Loudly.

He spent a few minutes sighing and shifting, trying to get his point across. He went so far as to drop his head hard on Jenny's shoulder and glare at the screen. She smirked. He felt it.

On the big screen, the awkward girl wrecked a motorcycle. The werewolf boy ran to her dramatically, ripping off his shirt.

What happened next was horrific.

The entire theatre erupted into screams of joy. The girls in front of him collapsed squealing into each other. Someone screamed the actor's name. One girl jumped up. There were more screams.

Jethro stared, eyes wide, his jaw set. He experienced fear. In all his years as a sniper, and subsequently as an NCIS field agent, he had never experienced terror like this.

Jenny was laughing hysterically.

At least someone was amused.

Jethro spent the next ten minutes apprehensive that the squealing was going to start again. It didn't. The teenagers apparently became accustomed to seeing the actor shirtless, as for some reason he decided to stop wearing clothes the rest of the movie.

It was easily the most ridiculous thing he'd ever been forced to sit through. There were werewolves that had nothing to do with the full moon. Vampires that didn't drink human blood. Some of them even sparkled.

He spent two and a half hours listening to two boys whine about how bad of an influence they were. And how much they hated themselves. And how evil they were. And how noble and righteous they were.

He found himself wondering why the self-sacrificing morons didn't use the fact that the girl was obviously insecure and gullible to get laid like normal teenage boys.

By the end, his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were glued to the screen. He was hypnotized by the absurdity. The final scene was taking forever. He was itching to get up and bolt for the door. He actively calculated how far he could get before Jenny caught up and ripped him a new one.

"Marry me," droned the dull, brooding boy on the screen.

Then the credits stared.

And the squealing and clapping started again.

"He didn't even have a ring!" growled Jethro, fed up.

Jenny sat up and smirked as girls started getting up and charging each other, running from the theatre, cell phones appearing in their hands like magic.

"He could do with some advice from you," she mocked, lifting a brow, "You're the authority on proposals, I hear."

He scowled at her.

The theatre seemed to take a lifetime to empty.

Jethro leapt out of his seat like it was on fire, intent on making a fast getaway. Jenny allowed him the freedom to march out of the theatre and then out of the lobby like a baited bull, her amused eyes on his back.

She caught up to him in the parking lot.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked, leaning against his side of the car when he tried to open the door.

He gave her a forceful glare.

"I hate you," he informed her bluntly.

Jenny laughed.

"You didn't like it at all?" she prodded sweetly.

She was met with silent outrage. She pushed off from the car with a playful look in her eye and allowed him to throw himself in the passenger seat, slamming the door. She slid in the driver's seat and revved the engine, her lips curled in a smile.

He stared straight ahead, disgruntled.

After a few minutes of silence, Jenny sighed, bit her lip, and glanced at him.

"You look cute when you pout," Jenny mocked.

"I'm not speaking to you," he growled.

This behavior was odd. They spent all of their time at work snarling at each other. Everything was turned upside down.

"You just did," Jenny pointed out cheerfully.

He lapsed into brooding silence again. Then—

"You enjoyed that junk?"

Jenny shrugged.

"It's harmless—"

"That's a matter of opinion," he snorted, interrupting.

She went on as if he hadn't.

"The first book was actually good. Then it spiraled out of control. It amuses me. I needed some amusement," she said thoughtfully.

Jethro looked at her, steely gaze melting a little.

"Any reason you chose me to inflict torture one?" he asked sarcastically.

Her lips twitched and she smiled wickedly.

"Oh, Jethro," she said with a sigh, "You were the most entertaining choice."

He grimaced and grumbled. He had played right into her hands. Grudgingly, he was at least glad he could serve to amuse her.

He settled back quietly into the seat, making the decision to stop antagonizing her. The ordeal was over. Now he could at least be pleased he'd seen a movie with Jenny.

She pulled her car into his driveway gracefully and parked it, turning it off without a word and looking at him. He looked at her for a minute, hesitating. It was three in the morning now; too late for bed and too early for work. She'd have hell to pay when her security found her gone.

"Want to come in for coffee?" he offered.

"Not if it's a metaphor for sex," Jenny quipped, arching a brow.

He glared. Jenny smiled and opened her car door, getting out. Jethro followed suit, slamming it again.

"Bourbon, then," he adjusted.

She came around the car, her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. It was unbuttoned now, and he was pleased to find not a 'team something' t-shirt but a simple warm sweater. Her cheeks were red in the biting November air and her eyes looked exceptionally pretty in the moonlight.

It occurred to him that he'd prefer the coffee to bourbon, metaphorically speaking.

"Thanks for being such a good sport," she said lightly, an eyebrow lifting just to show how ironic the statement was.

He didn't answer her. He didn't move. He didn't, for a moment, want to stop looking at her. She pursed her lips and tossed her head, shaking her hair behind her shoulders. She looked a little embarrassed.

She gave a slightly nervous laugh.

"Stop looking at me like that—"

Her last word was muffled by the kiss her pressed to her lips. He pushed her gently back against the car, his hands cupping her cold cheeks. He kissed her deeply; long and hard, unable to extract himself from her warmth and the intoxicating taste of her mouth.

When he did let her breathe, she did so raggedly. She swallowed hard and pressed her lips together, her eyes soft and wild at the same time. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled weakly.

"What team were you again?" Jethro asked, making an attempt to appease her with interest. His sapphire eyes gleamed.

Jenny pressed her palm against his chest, the warmth seeping through his shirt and hitting all the right nerves. He tangled his fingers in her hair, massaging her temples. She smiled and gave him a wicked look through her eyelashes.

"Team Jethro," she replied coyly, bunching his shirt in her hand.

He smirked triumphantly. Exactly as he suspected. 'No off the job' be damned.

He leaned in for another kiss and she met him with open lips this time, her tongue tracing his lips with more seduction than the surprise of the first had allowed. She surreptitiously pulled his hips closer to hers at a belt loop, an invitation that the passion of her kiss reinforced.

"Coffee?" Jethro offered smugly, kissing the corner of her mouth.

Laughing quietly at the quip, Jenny gave a miniscule nod. Jethro caught her chin with one hand and tilted her head up, so the back of it rested gently against the car. He looked at the smooth skin of her throat admiringly.

Smirking, he pressed a lingering kiss to her throat and scraped his teeth teasingly against her carotid artery. He felt the vibration of her soft moan against his lips. He grinned.

It was enlightening to him that Jenny's weakness when it came to his mouth on her neck had to do with a vampire fetish.

* * *

_I must dedicate this one to my best friend Miranda: who sat in a theatre with me to day through the epic 'New Moon'--and willingly obliged me in laughing hysterically as we mocked it. _


End file.
